


Cold Boy

by Secretficjunkie



Category: Little Witch Academia
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Parenting, Childhood, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Developing Friendships, Friendship, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Male Friendship, Piano, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26006524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secretficjunkie/pseuds/Secretficjunkie
Summary: How could he do it? How could he twist his own son from a sweet artistic boy into a cold unfeeling young man? We follow Andrew's journey through childhood. His love for the piano is his lifeline, his dream and his peace. When it's taken away, he is left with very little to hope for. A very real story about how people are changed by their circumstances, for better and for worse.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Real talk, I had to write this, I was driven. I had a Paul Hanbridge type for a father and I grieve deeply for a lost childhood. Andrew acts the fool and I understand why so well. This piece is my despair and my hope. Thank you for reading.

“What have you accomplished today, Andrew?”

It was the question Paul Hanbridge asked his son every day. 

Five-year old Andrew began babbling happily about the piece of music his piano tutor had begun teaching him earlier that day. 

That damn piano...Andrew had begged and pleaded for lessons. Paul hadn't the heart to refuse him, not so soon after the boy's mother had passed. But he still didn't like the idea...it was too much of a distraction. He had plans for the boy, none of which involved music.

“No talk of the piano at the table, son,” reprimanded Mr. Hanbridge. 

Little Andrew deflated a bit, wanting so badly to share with his father what he had learned. But he perked up in no time, talking instead about school, a topic he knew his father would approve of. 

“-and Benjamin fell and hurt his knee. He got in trouble for climbing the trees-”

“Andrew,” Mr. Hanbridge interrupted sternly. “I asked you what you accomplished today. Benjamin's knee, however interesting, has nothing to do with that question.” 

“I'm sorry, father,” said Andrew reproachfully. 

Mr. Hanbridge softened. “That's quite alright. Remember, clean and concise speech. That will get you far.” 

Andrew sniffed and nodded, looking down at his shoes.


	2. The Most Painful Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew's joy is taken from him. His pain and strength begin to intertwine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's possible that Paul Hanbridge is not a malicious man. But his blindness to emotion makes him villainous.

His favorite part of the week was sitting down to play the piano. For a while, he didn't have to do schoolwork, or practice elocution and diction, he could just listen to the music. And his fingers did all the talking.

It didn't matter what he was learning to play...Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, classics or contemporary...he loved it all. 

When he sat on that bench and scooted forward enough for his short legs to reach the pedals, the troubles and boredom melted away. He only felt joy, pure and unblemished. In his heart, he imagined he could see a beautiful garden surrounded by a wall of thorns. The piano was his garden...his sanctuary.

For one precious year, he was able to escape to that secret place each Saturday. He wished with the passion of deepest desire he could feel that way all the time. 

He never imagined it could be taken away.

At the dinner table one night, the question came, same as it always did. 

“What have you accomplished today, Andrew?”

“One-hundred percent in maths, father, as well as history and literature.”

“Excellent,” said Mr. Hanbridge, “I've spoken to your elocution tutor. He tells me you have shown considerable improvement. You have made me proud.” 

Andrew lit up at the rare grain of praise from his father. He preserved it, crystal clear in his mind, as precious as any treasure. He couldn't have beat the smile from his face with a stick. 

“Tomorrow, you will accompany me to work. It is about time you started to learn the basics of diplomacy. How does that sound?” said Paul, not expecting much of an answer aside from a firm 'yes, father.' He busied himself pouring milk into his tea. 

“Oh...um...” Andrew faltered.

“Clearly and concisely, son,” said Mr. Hanbridge, not looking up from his cup.

Andrew fidgeted. Talking about piano was expressly forbidden at the table and practically everywhere in his father's presence. But...well, he did just say he was proud...didn't he? 

“I have a piano lesson tomorrow. I don't want to miss it...” he started tentatively.

Mr. Hanbridge let out a terse sigh, trying to keep his temper. “The piano does not matter. We have to start preparing you for a leadership role.”

“But...please...I like to play music,” he started to panic, feeling one of the few things that he loved in the world slipping away through his fingers. “I don't want to be a leader! I want to play music!”

“Enough!” Paul Hanbridge slammed a hand on the tabletop, making the teacups quake. 

Andrew flinched, tears coming to his eyes. His father rarely raised his voice to him...he rarely had to.

“Don't you understand, boy? I can't give you the future! I can only give you the tools to succeed and how can I do that when you constantly get distracted by useless things?!” 

Andrew didn't say anything. He didn't understand at all. Why did doing something he loved make his father so angry?

“This music nonsense stops now. I had my doubts when it started and I should have listened to myself. You will not play anymore!”

The words broke Andrew's heart. He couldn't stop the sob that wracked his small body. Not wanting his father to see him cry like this, not wanting to be anywhere near here, he left his place at the table and bolted for his room, vision blurry from cascading tears. 

“I'm only doing what's best for you! Remember that!” his father shouted after him. 

But he still didn't understand. He only ran to his room and laid face down on the bed so that his distraught sobs would be muffled by the covers. He cried and cried. 

Deep in his heart, the ugly wall of thorns grew so tall he couldn't see his garden anymore, his sanctuary. It had all slipped away. 

Finally, he had no more tears left. His eyes were bleary and red. The thorns inside his heart grew so hard, he thought he might choke on them. 

The beauty that was ripped up by the roots now turned to steely resolve. With the tears all gone, he could hardly feel anything anymore. 

He didn't cry when they took the piano from the house...he hardly felt it. The ugly thorns protected his heart. He dutifully attended his studies and his father's lessons in diplomacy and politics. 

As he grew, so did the wall, always protecting him, always harming him.


	3. Andrew's First Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew meets Frank, who he doesn't realize he desperately needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nouveau riche is a semi-disrespectful term meaning "new money". Those who are recently wealthy are generally thought of as tasteless and un-classy. 
> 
> I am thoroughly convinced that Frank is an American.
> 
> There is no earthly reason that Andrew and Frank should be friends. They are complete opposites. Except that Frank is the best ever and Andrew needs him.

Andrew's first years at Appleton Academy weren't easy ones. He was constantly at the top of his class, constantly working to make sure he stayed there. It left very little time to make friends.

The girls had started to take great interest in him, which made the boys all the more jealous, and making friends got harder. 

Still, he tried. He had to. 

“Be friendly with everyone at Appleton, son. They come from important families and you never know who you might need in your pocket for a favor down the road,” his father's advice echoed in his head.

He didn't like the idea of using people that way, but it wasn't personal. Just politics...right?

A lot of the other students received the same direction from their fathers, after all. When the other boys weren't whispering about him behind his back, they were flattering him to his face, all because of his last name. 

School was just another political playing field. Just another place that hardened his heart. 

At least, until a transfer student from a nouveau riche family changed the tides of his fate. 

He sat alone in the cafeteria, pouring over his books, when his light was suddenly blocked by a looming shadow. He looked up to see the smiling face of the loud, coarse and boisterous blonde transfer student. 

“Hey there, name is Frank!” he said, extending a hand, which Andrew shook curtly. “Mind if I sit down?” 

“Be my guest,” Andrew said disinterestedly. He was expecting another heap of shameless currying of his favor. 

“What's your name, man?” Frank asked happily. 

“That's hardly a way to address a new acquaintance,” Andrew started. He instantly regretted how coldly the words came out. He reminded himself of his father and shuddered at the thought. 

Softening a bit, he went on, “My name is Andrew Hanbridge, it's a very great pleasure to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” said Frank. He either didn't notice Andrew's first comment or was too gracious to point it out. He started in on lunch, as comfortable as could be, as if they were already old friends.

“So, you're the transfer student from the United States,” said Andrew, trying to strike up friendly conversation. 

“That's right! How'd ya know?”

“Well...your loose elocution, lack of subtlety and choice in hairstyle are all dead giveaways,” said Andrew, trying and failing to avoid saying something mean.

“Oh, yeah, ya like it?” said Frank, turning his head this way and that, showing off the various angles of his pompadour. 

He just wouldn't be budged by coldness or insults. Andrew was completely thrown off balance. He decided to change the subject.

“What are you eating?” he asked. 

“Just peanut butter, man-whoops sorry-I mean Andrew,” he replied. “Having trouble getting used to all this Brit food. You guys boil everything over here. And no offense, Andrew, but tea is gross,” he laughed. 

“You must be out of your mind,” chuckled Andrew. Frank was so obtuse, so ignorant of all the politics and fakery around him, it was endearing. 

He was quickly growing fond of the loud blonde boy. But there was something he just had to ask.

“Why are you here right now? You make friends so easily. What do you want from me?” he asked sincerely wishing to know. 

With a mouthful of peanut butter, Frank considered him for a moment. “You look like you could use a friend, Andrew,” he finally said. Then he went back to his lunch as if the question had never been asked. 

The ugly thorns shrank back, just a little.


	4. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank re-introduces Andrew to the piano.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frank is 1000% the best boy and deserved a lot more screen time.

Andrew's responsibilities increased as courses went on at Appleton, but building friendships at least had become a little bit easier. 

Frank was lucky enough to be experiencing an average education, which included a broader range of topics than Andrew was allowed to take. 

He was particularly envious that Frank had been prompted to take music to help improve his math skills. 

Up until this point, he had been unconsciously avoiding the second-floor music room. But today...today he made his way there to lend Frank his math notes after class. 

He didn't think much about it until he stepped into the music room. Frank was there with a small handful of their friends, but he hardly saw them at first.

The piano in the corner captured his attention, and he swore his heart skipped a beat. He hadn't even laid eyes on a piano in years. Memories he had locked away forced themselves to the front of his mind. Wonderful memories...and the most painful one. 

“-Ooohooo! Earth to Andrew!” Frank's voice broke through the fog. 

Andrew pulled himself out of his reverie, but his eyes kept darting to the piano. 

“Here's the math notes,” he said, handing the sheets to Frank, who was plucking idly at guitar strings and bending over a bit of sheet music. 

Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. He remembered it well.

“Is that a 'G' sharp...or...an 'F' flat...” Frank was pondering out loud, plucking away.

“G sharp and F flat are the same note,” said Andrew without thinking, almost in a dream-like state.

Frank's head snapped up. “Andrew, you can read this?!” He waved the sheet music.

Andrew panicked a bit. “Well...y-yes, I-”

“That's great! What instrument do you play? You can show me!”

“No, I can't. I haven't played piano in-in years-”

But Frank heard the word 'piano' and was already steering him to the corner by the shoulders. 

Andrew tripped over his words and sputtered as Frank sat him down on the bench and propped up the sheet music on the piano. 

“I-I don't know,” he stuttered. 

“Don't worry about it, just mellow out a little and try it and it'll come back to you,” Frank offered his huge encouraging smile. 

Andrew stared at the music, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt light-headed but at the same time, like a great weight was sitting on his shoulders. 

His hands felt like lead as he positioned them on the keys, getting his feet comfortable on the pedals. He plinked a few keys experimentally and his heart raced even faster. 

It had been such a long time...but he played the notes. He made a few mistakes at first, but Frank was right...it was coming back to him.

The ugly thorns in his heart withered, starting to shrink away. For a moment, he was almost there again. Almost back in the lovely garden his heart called home. But the joy didn't come back, not all the way. It was stopped by a cold clinical feeling. 

Before he knew it, he reached the end of the piece. He barely heard his friends clapping. 

“That was so great!” Frank praised. “You never told me you could play like that!” 

“I-I haven't been allowed to play in years,” he replied. His face hardened. “My father forbids it.”

“But you're so good at it!” Frank pressed. “You should come and play after my music class every week.”

“No...it's just a useless thing,” he echoed his father. 

Frank put his arm around his friend's shoulders. “Listen, in the time we've been buddies I've never seen you light up like that. I thought you were gonna break your face!” he laughed. “Anything that makes you feel like that can't be useless.” 

Their other friends nodded in agreement. 

“My feelings don't matter,” Andrew sank deeper into his despair. 

“No, that's crap,” said Frank, getting serious. “Your old man has wrapped you up in so much red tape, you think you're some kind of machine, but you're not. And what's scary is he's not even here right now. You're wrapping that tape around yourself for him, man!” 

Andrew didn't want to admit that Frank made a lot of sense. He was often the voice of reason if Andrew was being honest with himself. 

“I think you should come up here and play after class. Take some joy for yourself. No need for the old man to find out about it. Right boys?” he looked to the others. 

They all agreed. Paul Hanbridge wouldn't hear about it, ever. 

And Andrew practiced in secret in the second-floor music room for three years. Every once in a while, the old joy would almost come back. He could almost see through the ugly wall of thorns. Almost.


	5. Bee Commotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akko crashes the party at the Hanbridge manor. The cupid bee is let loose and Andrew plays the piano to distract the guests while Akko deals with the problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter mostly covers the events of "Bee Commotion" or "Bee Affection" episode. With some added flavor and inner feelings of course.

“What have you accomplished today, Andrew?”

“The Academy wishes to honor me with an award for an excellent academic record over the last three years,” he responded evenly.

Paul Hanbridge was pleased. “You've done well to have earned this award. You have made me proud,” he praised his son. 

“Thank you, father.”

There was once a time when Andrew craved his father's praise. He hated how his heart jumped just a little when he received it now. 

In no time at all, his father had arranged for a celebration in honor of his accomplishment. He had pulled out all the stops. It was a grand event, loaded for bear with work colleagues and fellow nobles to impress. 

He scoffed when he saw that they had even brought in a grand piano to decorate the foyer.

He knew full well this party wasn't for him. It was for his father to show off how successfully he had raised his son to be a perfect protege. Oh well, at least his friends would be there to ease the boredom.

The night of the party came, and it was even more unbearable than Andrew thought it would be. He was made to stand by his father all evening, forced to listen to his colleagues lavish compliments over them both. 

“Thank you for coming to celebrate my son's achievement,” he smiled to the guests.

Other nobility would talk about him to his father as if he wasn't standing right there. 

“He's been at the top of his class for three years in a row at a school as prestigious as Appleton, how impressive!”

“Such an outstanding young man! It's no wonder your father has such high hopes for you, Andrew. I'm sure you'll be a great statesman like your father someday.”

“I certainly hope he will,” his father said carefully.

“Excuse me.” He had had enough.

Just then, his friends appeared with Frank in the lead. “You don't look like you're in too good of a mood,” he smiled. 

“I'm getting tired of all this lip-service,” he said. 

Frank, always easily distracted by girls, was sidetracked by the sight of Diana Cavendish. 

“It seems that you've been working hard,” Diana said with a smile that didn't quite reach up to her eyes.

He chuckled lightly. “I see you've taken time from your busy schedule to grace us all with your presence. I'm honored.” His sarcasm was thick as molasses, but he couldn't care at that moment. 

What happened next was little more than a hazy memory. He vaguely recalled attempting to throw Miss Kagari and her friends out of the party. A sharp sting and then...nothing. 

Not until he had reached the outdoor courtyard and the cool night air cleared his head just enough to kick-start his brain. 

In his magically-induced stupor, he didn't hear his father approaching until he sternly spoke. 

“Andrew.”

His father looked fairly livid. This wasn't going to be pretty.

“I've heard that there are witches from Luna Nova in our house.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you allow this? Knowing how I despise them? Magic is an evil craft left over from ancient times. As statesmen, we must ensure that the future of our nation is guided by our hands. Witches are useless.”

“You think we should distance ourselves from them entirely?” he asked. 

“It's just politics.” 

How many times had he heard that before. How many questionable things had he done under that flag he flew?

“You have a tendency to be captivated by useless things...like when you wanted to take piano lessons as a child.”

Andrew felt it. He felt the thorns threatening to crush his heart again. 

“But father, I haven't played in ten years. Just as you instructed,” he lied. 

“As it should be. You will be a respected leader of this country someday, you don't have time for distractions. Make sure those witches leave...understood?”

With that, his father was gone. He could only stand there, motionless, crushed for a second time by Paul Hanbridge's careless words. 

“Well what are you waiting for? Kicking us out isn't any harder than quitting the piano,” Miss Kagari's voice came from the shadows as she marched toward the fountain haughtily. 

“Who knew you were just a coward who does whatever his dad tells him to do?” 

That stung. It was partially true, but how could she understand? How could she say that, not knowing what he had gone through, how much he had endured...and he couldn't explain it even if he wanted to. He decided to give a canned answer.

“I highly respect my father. Both as the head of the Hanbridge estate as well as an esteemed politician. It's my duty to follow in his footsteps.”

“Your duty?! What about following your dreams? You do have your own dream, don't you?”

Oh if only she knew. She kind of sounded like Frank. Making too much sense for his liking. Still, he couldn't bring himself to open up to her. 

She was a witch after all, dependent on magic. A quick-fix in a world full of problems and he just didn't have the luxury of quick-fixes like that.

“You would never understand. There are some people who are fated to uphold their proud lineage.”

Just as he was sinking into despair, something hard hit him in the back of the head. 

When he turned to look, Miss Kagari, she gave a passionate speech about her dream, her idol, Chariot. She echoed his sentiment, “I'm sure someone like you wouldn't understand at all.” 

On that, at least, they could agree. Two different worlds, they might as well be universes apart. But instead of isolating him, he felt closer to her somehow. 

Maybe it was that, or maybe it was her enthusiasm. Hell, maybe it was whatever strange enchantment that came over him in the foyer, but he couldn't stop the words as they came, “You know...you're pretty cute.” 

She blushed wildly. “Well, you don't really think that. You got stung by an enchanted bee earlier.”

“Did I now?”

Wait...did he now? A vague hazy memory swam to the surface of a pain in the back of his neck just before he blacked out. Maybe...

“Hey, there it is!” she suddenly shouted. “You should help! If we squash the bee, you'll go back to normal.” 

Yes, he would have to help, wouldn't he? There was no possibility of letting her run loose in the house without his father attempting to stop her. 

His father...

Mr. Hanbridge's words came swimming back in his mind. His hatred for witches, his political ideals, his derision for Andrew's love for the piano. It all came to bear, and enough was suddenly too much. 

The perfect plan dropped to the forefront of his brain. He would provide a distraction long enough for Miss Kagari to deal with the alleged enchanted bee, and he knew just what to do. 

As he ascended the stairs back to the foyer, a nervousness greater than he had ever felt before began to unfurl deep in his belly. His father would find out. He would know. He would be openly defied and what would he do then?

Andrew decided the consequences would be well worth it. He would show his father that he hadn't been completely crushed. With a final deep breath, he gathered his courage.

“Guests...may I have your attention? A dangerous bee is on the loose, and Miss Kagari is trying to dispose of it.”

“Uh, Andrew?” Miss Kagari whispered. 

“Please continue,” he gave her an encouraging wink. Was that the enchantment? Or was he trying to boost his courage? Either way, it didn't matter now. 

“Meanwhile, for your listening pleasure...Flight of the Bumblebee.” 

He placed his fingers and they began to fly almost of their own accord into the depths of the melody.

He couldn't even hear the commotion of the chase or the mass of guests falling under the cupid bee's spell. He couldn't hear anything except the music. 

For the first time in ten years, the joy pushed to the surface. The music filled his heart and pushed away the ugly wall of thorns that had grown so tall and so hard. He glimpsed a lush garden, a sanctuary, just as it was when he was six years old and could barely reach the pedals. He had found his way back...at last.

It was over much too soon. He played the final notes, closing the path once again. 

It was at that moment that Akko Kagari smashed the bee against Paul Hanbridge's forehead with a sickening crunch. The enchantment lifted from the guests, his father and himself. 

The joy that so thoroughly filled him gave way to a nervous fear as he realized what he had done. The fear only ran wildly out of control as he felt a congratulatory patting on his back.

“That sounded amazing! You're great at the piano, Andrew!”

 _No, don't call attention to it. I gave myself away, don't make it worse._

The old thorns roared to life to protect him and he fell into a cold familiar pattern.

“Well, of course, I'm perfect after all. I work hard, unlike you.” 

It was harsh, even for him. The stunned look on Miss Kagari's face made his gut wrench in regret but it was already too late. 

Then her elegant gown magically faded, replaced by a common school uniform...a witch school uniform. 

He smirked and left her standing in the foyer, feeling justified in his actions in that moment. She was a witch, after all. Using magic to crash the party, to make it seem like she belonged. 

But his gut wrenched again. She had helped him, and he should have been more grateful. 

What had changed? What brought the joy back? Was it her? Was it the enchantment brought on by the bee?

Andrew couldn't stop his mind trying to blindly feel for an answer. Even his worry about his father's wrath had faded. 

In actuality, Paul Hanbridge was so thoroughly embarrassed by the bee incident that he hadn't the bearings to punish his son's defiance.


	6. Find Your Way Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew and Frank discuss girls on the veranda. Afterward, Andrew must put his heart to the test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A semi-happy ending awaits us

After the bee had been demolished against his head, Mr. Hanbridge ended the celebration early and retired for the evening, not wishing to lay eyes on another single soul for a while. Andrew was off the hook. 

He and Frank stood on the veranda. Andrew tried to take his mind off the questions reeling in his brain by reading. But Frank wasn't keen on letting him be at peace...not yet.

“Lotte Yansson...when you first look at her, she seems ordinary. But when I saw her sad smile, it hit me...finding genuinely kind girls like her is rare,” he said. 

_Leave it to Frank to be the voice of reason_

“What about you and Atsuko Kagari?” 

_Never mind about the voice of reason bit, what does he know?_

“You're kidding,” Andrew said dismissively.

“Well, at the very least, you didn't kick her out. You did the right thing by disobeying daddy dearest this time.” 

He knew he meant more by that than just letting the girls stay at the party. 

“My father is a great statesman. But my opinions don't necessarily reflect his all the time.”

Frank was proud of his friend. He was finally standing up for himself. But that didn't mean he was safe from Frank's teasing...not by a long shot. 

“So what you're sayin' is...you're intrigued by that Kagari girl,” he needled. 

Andrew chose not to answer. In a few ways, yes, perhaps he was...not that he would ever admit it to Frank. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

In fact, later that night, Andrew couldn't sleep because she refused to leave his mind. He couldn't stop thinking about how he felt sitting at the piano. He craved the joy...he had missed it so. 

Was it Atsuko Kagari that brought it back? Or was it just a stupid enchantment? 

He was suddenly afraid. If it was just a side-effect of magic, what if he could never get it back again?

He flung himself out of bed, padding softly in the direction of the foyer. He was relieved to not run into another single soul throughout the house. Everyone would be asleep...he could test himself and find out. 

At the top of the stairs, his heart leaped at the sight of the piano, lit by the moon through the tall windows. He was terrified...and elated. 

He checked around one last time for any living being, but the house was silent. He sat on the piano bench, and the pedals were as ice cold under his bare feet. 

On a moonlit night like this, when he needed to be quiet...it needed a softness. 

Claire De Lune...it was the perfect piece. 

His fingers shook as he placed them on the cold keys. This was it. Was it a coincidence? Magic? Would he be able to find his way back?

He played the soft beginning notes of Debussy's masterpiece. They didn't come easy like Flight of the Bumblebee. His fingers had flown...now they crawled, as if on their belly, through the thorny earth. 

Despite his struggling fingers, he could feel the melody flooding through him. The thorns...his protection and his pain...parted as easily as a gate. 

He thought about Miss Kagari's speech about chasing her dream. 

There it was. In the garden of his heart...his sanctuary. He hadn't been there in so long. 

He couldn't finish the piece for the choked sob that wrenched itself from him without warning. He clamped a hand over his mouth, shook to the core by the tears that poured so freely. 

After a while, he regained control over himself and breathed easier. He backed away from the piano, suddenly feeling exhausted. He looked back at it at the top of the stairs. 

He was still a Hanbridge, still slated for a role in politics and upholding the family name. But at least he could turn to music, go inward and find his peace. The thorns would always be there, as would the scars and the strength and the pain. But so would the garden.

He would always be able to find his way back now.


End file.
